


A Fortunate Accident

by sku7314977



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Emergancy Surgery, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Eventual relationship, M/M, Police Officer Will Graham, Shock, Stabbing, Surgeon Hannibal, Twink Will, Young Hannibal, Young Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-19 18:26:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3619830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sku7314977/pseuds/sku7314977
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After obtaining a serious stab wound while pursuing a criminal Will finds himself in the care of the alluring and curious Dr. Hannibal Lecter.  An exotic man he can't stop thinking about and desperately wants to pursue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eyes of Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mads_Mikkelsen_Enthusiast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mads_Mikkelsen_Enthusiast/gifts).



> Hello darlings~<3
> 
> I really wanted to write some smutty, slutty twink Will getting it on with a young doctor Hannibal. This little fic has been haunting my subconscious for a while now and with some excellent encouragement from Mads_Mikkelsen_Enthusiast I'm finally putting it on paper and decided last minute to share it with all of you. 
> 
> A few things to note, I KNOW that this is not exactly how shock works, I know Will wouldn't be able to push out words but I did read a number of people's personal experiences online and I did honestly research how they thought while undergoing shock.
> 
> I know from my own experiences of large metal objects piercing my body how the pain works and when you start to feel it, but I've never experienced shock before so I had to go by what I read and then I stretched the truth some for the first chapter of the fic. If you don't like it, I'm sorry I didn't make it close enough to reality for you. I know I'm using a literary license for this piece, I'm doing it for plot purposes. Please forgive me. ;n;
> 
> That said if anyone would like to share their own knowledge or experiences to further enlighten me in a non-demeaning manor I would LOVE the help. I'm always looking to broaden my knowledge for writing purposes~<3
> 
> Thank you all for understanding, I hope you enjoy the story despite it's many flaws.
> 
> I own nothing. 
> 
> Not Beta Read.

Feet pounding against pavement, lean honed body racing through the streets; Will Graham was hot on the trail, sprinting with all the energy of a rooky cop three years in the business and still eager to prove their salt. He didn’t pull the cliché, didn’t waste his breath to tell the man he was chasing to ‘stop in the name of the law’. Everyone knew it didn’t work that way, not in the movies and not on the streets.

But movies got to cut out all the crappy paper work and life left runners out of breath unless they kept up on their cardio or ran marathons.

Will kept up on his cardio, five mile runs every morning before work with weighted wrist and ankle bands, the man he was chasing? Probably a fucking marathon runner; he had the lead and he was keeping it, pushing himself without the windedness Will would have expected from a middle aged man with so much grey salting his hair.

Taking another swallow of air he pushed himself a little harder, run a little faster, he’d have to remember to up the lead weights on his training bands next time he went for a jog. There was a big difference between a morning run in shorts and a tee and sprinting after felon in a kevlar vest.

He turned down a back alley and Will followed him, losing only a second in chase on the turn. He marveled at the difference a few scant seconds can make during pursuit as he watched the man land on the other side of a fence, chain links rattling as he took off through the alley and turned a corner onto the open street.

“Fuck,” Losing sight was never a good thing. Not impossible to come back from, but a pain in the ass. He took a running start at the chain link, jumping to grab the fencings top and hoist himself over and hopes his partner isn’t too far behind, a more seasoned officer with a few more years under her belt than Will and one he couldn’t take the time to look back and check on if he wanted to find the runner before he disappeared.

He ran out of the alley and turned onto a busy Baltimore sidewalk. It was the lunch rush. He cursed, watching as dozens of civilians crowded the path, a forest of bodies for the perp to hide in. “No one’s knocked over, no one’s panicking.” He said, moving through the crowed, eyes sharp and searching, “He’s trying to hide in plain sight.” Will just prayed the guy decided to duck his head and keep moving and didn’t think to sneak into a restaurant try squeezing through the bathroom window.

Stormy eyes scanned the street, flicking between passersby and shifting foot traffic as he searched for his mark. He was plain, the kind of plain that worked like camouflage when walking through a mall, or in this case, on a busy sidewalk. If he wasn’t dressed like a blue-collar worker it might have helped him disappear, but this was the home of the elite and he was out of his class.

Will spotted him by his worn jacket; the stained collar and aged material making the man stick out like a sore thumb amongst the designer wear of the class surrounding him. The man's attempt to blend with a hurried walk and hunched shoulders did nothing to aid in his blending. Will made haste, taking off after the man once more in a sprint.

It could have been the sound of his combat boots hitting pavement or the shout of civilians he shouldered out of the way, whatever it was, it was enough to warn the man he'd been spotted but not enough to let him take the lead and Will was on him, tackling the man to the ground.

It was too bad he hadn't seen the knife.

He’d known there would be no outrunning the officer this time and turned, a knife in hand Will didn't register until he was riding the man and the blade to the ground, taking the serrated steel into his shoulder.

Oddly, he didn't feel the pain of it. Not the way he had expected to, there was no sharp agony of parting flesh, no immobilizing burn of being torn open - instead he felt the grind of the blade pushing through cartilage, metal scraping against bone - and watched the smile of victory split the perp’s face as he took Will's moment of shock to turn the tables, flipping them, he ripped the blade free with another grinding of metal on bone and scrambled to his feet.

As he lay there on his back staring up at the man who’d stabbed him Will realized he couldn't move.

 _“Catatonia?”_ He wondered, lips quivering but refusing to form the word, his tongue a useless thing, _“Shock?”_ More probable, but it didn't matter. He'd been stabbed and now he was bleeding and couldn't make himself move. He didn't feel the pain, a survival response to the trauma caused by adrenaline. He knew that, understood that it would dull what was happening to his shoulder, hide what he was really feeling from his mind. At least for now, it wouldn't be for long and he couldn't bring himself to move even as he felt the wetness soaking through his shirt, blood pushing out of him to leak out onto the pavement.

He’d read about shock before, seen it in other victims he’d encountered on the job, the inability to move, mind going numb, the world around him becoming a surreal thing…it was terrifying and at the same time it wasn’t - that should have made it worse.

Laying numb, bleeding and vulnerable, all he could do was watch, witnessing the man who’d stabbed him stumble to his feet in a rush and grin down at him with a victory smile of yellow teeth, turn and scream; an observing pedestrian either too brave or too stupid burning the man’s eyes with a chemical spray of mace. He reeled in pain, grabbing at his face with one hand as he swept wide with the knife with the other. He missed the hero stepping back out of range and was tackled to the ground a second, more successful time by Beverley Katz a hot second later. At least Will assumed it was Bev, really he just heard pounding footsteps and saw a streak of dark blue before two bodies hit the ground.

They were out of his range of sight now, not that had he been watching anyone purposefully before. He was staring straight ahead, seeing blue skies and bright sunshine and watching the world move around him from his peripheral.

A crowd of people was swarming around him, camera phones flashing pictures and taking quick video’s because no one ever knew when to step the fuck back and just call 9-1-1, the second were feeling like minutes and minutes like hours and he still couldn't move despite being sure that he was in fact dying. The knife might have hit a vital artery, cut enough tissue to have him bleeding to death beneath his vest and he would die lying in a pool of his own blood in shock on the sidewalk with a dozen phones snapping pictures and not one fucking idiot thinking to dial 9-1-1.

It wasn't how he wanted to go.

"Officer down!" He heard his partner call, most likely talking into her radio. He couldn't see more than her feet with his angle or hear much beyond the buzz of crowding civilians and sound of blood in his ear.

"Stand back please." The voice was commanding, calm and controlled, nothing like the crowd of people hyped on adrenalin and looking for something to gawk at. "I'm an emergency surgeon from John Hopkins." He informed...someone...maybe Katz? Will didn't know, but the pain was catching up to him now, his mouth was dry and he swallowed convulsively. "He's gone into shock." The doctor announced, he was crouching on the sidewalk, one knee to the ground, handsome face perfectly in view, steady hands making quick work to open his clothing, push back as much material as he could to view the wound and apply pressure with...something...

His mind was getting foggy now, but Will recognized the procedure from his first aid training. Someone was stabbed: Remove the clothing, find the wound, apply pressure, stop the bleeding, keep them conscious, call an ambulance-

He clenched his teeth, a cry of pain forced from him as he felt the harsh push of pressed against his deep seated wound. "An ambulance is on its way." He heard Katz, heard sirens, other police cars, hopefully an ambulance. "Is he gonna be okay?"

Will’s focus was still on the man, at first he thought he was seeing more blood, but then he realized it was his eyes. They were maroon, red as the life that slicked Will's shoulder and chest and not once did he turn them from his careful work to consider the stormy blue depths watching him, "I'll know for sure once we get him to a hospital." He announced and Will found he only slightly cared. Beyond the pain now spreading through his shoulder like a fire he didn't care.

Another symptom of shock.

Minutes feel like hours and he could do little more than look at the doctors face from his peripheral as he worked to save him, keep the blood from pouring out like water with skilled hands and iron calm. Despite the pain flooding his system he couldn’t help but notice this man was beautiful, with dark hair and a strong jaw, bloody eyes and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass...he wanted to introduce himself and could manage nothing beyond a whine, his lips moving for pants and groans of pain and little else.

He wants to ask this beautiful stranger to coffee, know his name, find out if he's married or has a girlfriend, if he's interested in men or woman or both.

It’s almost enough distraction to keep his eyes from closing, but the pain is blinding and he can feel the hot run of tears racing from his eyes and his mouth is dry and he's in so much pain now, so much pain all he wants to do is scream as he's loaded into the ambulance and hands are all over him as his shirt is cut free and emergency surgery begins.

A mask is slid over his face, a needle into his arm and when he opens his eyes he sees him again, the beautiful stranger talking to the paramedics in his deep soothing voice, words curling with accent as he slips on thin blue gloves. His attention is on the emergency personnel and then it returns to Will and he feels saved.

"Will..." He managed watching the man above him who finds a sudden stillness with the unexpected word, "Gra-aham." His breath is hard, nearly a sob, teeth grinding as they come to a stop and Will is offloaded, wheeled into the hospital.

Lights go by overhead like the rungs of a ladder and he can still see the man with maroon eyes beside him, hand on the bed, walking with the nurses into the operating room. He's going into emergency and this man is going to treat him.

Will closes his eyes to the overhead lights; the world is too bright and too loud with murmured voices and beeping equipment. He feels the pinch of another needle and something cool moving into his veins and the next thing he knows is darkness, pain and quieting voices. It's an ocean that washes over him with buzzing equipment and bustling nurses, a sea that threatens to consume him and he’s pulled to shore from the void again and again by the quite calm of accented words and smooth, steady fingers.

OoO

He's not sure whether he was sedated or dropped off during the surgery but Will woke several hours later it was to the soft sound of birds chirping outside his hospital window and the orange glow of twilight in the sky.

Blinking some of the sleep from his eyes and shifted to move, hissing when pain suddenly bloomed for his efforts as he tried and failed to lift himself from the bed. "Ow," he glanced to his shoulder, looking at the thick pad of bandages that can be seen peeking from beneath his hospital gown, his sight slipping farther down to examine the IV protruding from his inner arm.

"I wouldn't suggest moving just yet Mr. Graham."

Blue grey eyes turned at the sound of soft spoken words and a familiar accented voice, the young officer seeing more clearly the man who had stood over.

He still feels as though he belongs on the table, as though little more than a few scant moments had passed since steel pushed into his body like a knife into steak. "You saved me." He used his other arm to push himself up, hissing again at the radiating pain. With his insistence the doctor stepped forward, assisting Will into a more comfortable position, propping a pillow beneath his back. "Thank you." His mouth still felt dry, the IV drip of fluid doing nothing to sooth his throat.

"There is no need to thank me." He assured, the tug of a smile pulling thin lips Will very much wanted to kiss.

He returned the smile instead; strained with the throbbing pain in his shoulder - no doubt dulled by whatever solution had been added to the IV drip attached to his arm. "Still, I owe you. You maced the perp didn't you? You shouldn't have done that, you could have been hurt."

"There was a risk to what I did, yes." He agrees, "But it was for the greater good. If given the chance I would do it again. It gave Officer Katz the opportunity to apprehend the man and free her conscious of either pursuing the getaway or seeing to her fallen partner."

Will hoped she would have pursued the perp and knew she would have stopped for him.

"Did she thank you?"

"She informed me I was foolish for confronting a felon and thanked me for my quick work in the efforts of your life. It is a deep wound Officer Graham, more blood was lost than expected. You were lucky I was there."

"Guess I was..." He sat in silence for a moment, worrying the skin of his lip and feeling tired as he looked the doctor who had saved him up and down. He wasn't sure whether the man was dressed for work or in his civvies. Though he wore finely pressed dress pants and a waist coat over his shirt, a suit jacket casually hung over his arm instead of the expected lab coat of a doctor. The whole ensemble worn with a casualty that told Will this was the man’s every day wear. A layer he wore as comfortably as his own skin.

"You need your rest officer Graham. I should leave you to it." He tilted his head, the slightest of incline in farewell and Will was wishing he hadn't been so awkward in making small talk.

"Wait," he reached, catching the tweed of his jacket before the mysterious doctor could turn away from him, leave the room and Will forever. He still didn't know his name.

He still wanted to take him out for coffee.

"Why are you in my room?"

Those lovely red eyes looked at his hand, fingers gripping the material almost desperate. "I came to check on you." He answered simply. "I was actually about to leave when you woke."

"You're an ER surgeon aren't you? I'm not technically your patient. Not once I'm wheeled into recovery."

The smile was back, pulling a little wider as he took a seat in a conveniently close chair next to Will's bed. One angled perfectly for keeping close to a sleeping patient. "No, you're not. I wasn't working today. Though I have no obligation to check on you, I wished to see how you were doing."

"Sorry to have made you work your day off," He might have felt guilty if it hadn't saved his life.

"I didn't mind the overtime." He answered, seeming just as put together in his seat as he had while standing. Will could easily see the man looking just as relaxed and put together in the coffee shop as he did in that chair; the utter calm that had soothed Will while he'd thought he was dying still just as prominent. "I'm glad I could help." He canted his head, the very slight shift to the side like a curious dog and seemed to turn his smile, or the subtle amusement of it at least, inward for a moment, "I must admit a certain curiosity, though I'm not sure if you'll remember it..." he paused and for a moment and Will thought it might have been a deliberate stall for the dramatic, "Were you introducing yourself to me in the ambulance?"

Will snorted a laugh at his own social inability and nodded, "Yeah, I was, uh," he felt a heat crawl into his cheeks and ducked his head, playing with the rough cotton of the hospital sheets, "I was trying to introduce myself. Pretty sure I was in shock. Not really thinking straight."

"I don't think I've ever heard of a stab victim attempting social etiquette while dying." He said in that lovely crisp accent Will had decided needed to come in a bottle.

He bit his lip again, risking a look back up at the handsome doctor, "It may have been a poor attempt to ask you to coffee." He admitted at last, earning the bare lift of brows in surprise. He was quickly learning that his doctor was a man of subtle gestures. Micro expressions his chosen smile.

"I see." Will looked into those seemingly endless pools of maroon, his gaze was intense, even as they sat in the quiet of his hospital room Will couldn’t' help but feel like those eyes bore into him. He had to look away, shifting his focus to the man’s nose, "May I ask what inspired this?"

"Honestly?" He let his eyes drift again, setting on thin lips. They looked soft, kissable. "I thought you were pretty." He admitted.

"Pretty?"

"Handsome? Sorry, any chance we can blame that on the drugs?"

"I think we can dismiss it."

"And the proposition?"

Another pull of lips into a smile, "I have yet to be propositioned. But it would be against hospital policy for me to accept any offers while you're a patient." Still he didn't leave Will's side and Will recognized that as a chance for something. "Perhaps if you were to approach me with an offer after your discharge..."

Will smiled, wide and excited; it made his youthful face look even younger and his cheeks round out. He still got carded when he went to the liquor store, even when he tried to grow out his stubble and give his face a little age. It had been over a year since his last horrible date, but it had also been over a year since he’d been allured by someone enough to want to try, "Can I have a number to reach you? Something in case I have any complications during my recovery?"

He smiled amused, "I can concede to that."

It was becoming a game, one they were both intent on playing. Will briefly wondered if the man would be able to handle his quirky nature before burying the burden of his mind in favor of enjoying this little bit of good. He deserved to dream about possibilities; it’d been a rough day, him being stabbed and all.

Though if he were to be honest, as he stared down at the perfectly scrawled name and number now in hand, he had to admit it was turning out to be a very fortunate accident.

OoOoO

TBC


	2. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets home from hospital and can't seem to get the handsome doctor out of his head. 
> 
> Fluffity, fluff, fluff~<3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How the hell did this fic get over 1000 hits in four days? What the hell did I write that so many people decided to read this?!?! I have no idea but thank you very, VERY much to everyone who's decided to read this useless little story! <3
> 
> This little fic is my piece of fluffy light heartened fun to counter the anxiety of writing TDW. So don't be surprised if the majority of this fic is sort of feel good smutty fluff.
> 
> With a sugar-daddy, dirty-talking kink that almost every seemed to be asking for. XD
> 
> Not to say the other requests won't happen, but we'll see where the story goes. C;
> 
> I do have a small sort of plot for this story but it's nothing super heavy because I've got enough stories with that going on and wanted something fun. So I apologize to anyone who came into this looking for high stakes adventure, though I'll probably do a little touching on a crime or two for Will or a little stress for Hanni's job this fic is gonna be about 80% smut and fluff and feel good...or at least that's the intention right now. God knows my whims change with the fucking wind. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the story. Will is an awkward puppy and Hannibal wants to bang him. 
> 
> I own nothing.
> 
> Not Beta Read.

Despite his desire to check out the following morning, if only so he could finally call the mysterious and handsome doctor, Will found himself trapped in the hospital another full day and a half before he was finally released, arm in a sling and an order to rest for a number of weeks while he healed.    
  
Jack wasn’t going to be happy about that and honestly Will couldn’t bring himself to care, not when he was sore and tied and wanting to do little more than pick at the food he could barely prepare and sleep.  
  
He spent the first two days of his freedom eating whatever he could make with one hand or had delivered in plastic reheatable containers by Katz and dozing on the couch to the sound of the discovery network and the lull in pain brought by Tylenol 3.  
  
It wasn't until his fourth day out of the hospital that Will let his attention drift to the folded piece of paper he'd been using as a book mark, the number he’d been given by the handsome doctor.  In the past four days he hadn’t been able to pry the memory of blood red eyes from his mind.  He still wanted to meet him.  
  
He still sucked at socializing.  
  
Biting his lip he worked his phone out of his pocket and entered the nine digits, staring long and hard at the number bright on his screen.  It made his stomach do a flip, nerves getting the better of him as he pressed 'Add To Contacts' instead of ‘Call’ and entering the name Dr. Hannibal Lecter into his phone.    
  
It felt safer than calling for about half a second, until he realized creating the contact was worse.  It showed intent for future.  
  
He groaned, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, "What the hell am I doing?"  He berated himself, he'd been in shock when he'd first met the man and drugged up to his eyeballs on morphine when he'd gotten to talk to him next.  It wasn’t the best way to meet a guy.  For all Will knew he’d hallucinated the whole conversation.  
  
'But then you wouldn't have the number.'  His mind corrected him.  There was no denying the folded piece of paper or the distinct curl of writing nothing like his own.  "God, what if I’m reading too far into this?"  He might have only imagined the game they’d played.  
  
A gentle let down instead of a subtle invitation, a correction for medical aid instead of future meetings.  
  
'But then why give me his personal number?'  
  
"Fuck."  He squeezed his eyes shut and let his thumb slid over dial, peeking with one eye to watch the screen as the number dialed through.  He listened to the whisper of a ring from the speaker and waited for the older man to answer with bated breath.  
  
"I apologize for the inconvenience but I am presently unavailable to take your call, if you would like to leave your nam-"  
  
Will hung up before the message could finish, laughing at himself for ever having thought the man might actually answer his call.  "Why do I even try?" He leaned back into a worn cushion and let his arm fall over his eyes, "Stupid..."  He scolded himself again, a humorless smile pulling his mouth as he thought of soft thin lips, large smooth hands and blood red eyes.  He really liked his eyes, maroon; such a rare and strange color for eyes.  
  
He was jarred awake by the sound of his cellphone hitting the floor several minutes later, the device slipping from his fingers in sleep.  “Damn-it…”  He rubbed his eyes, groaning as he pushed himself from the couch and collected the fallen piece of technology.  “I should just go to bed.”  Not that sleeping had been coming easy.  It seemed like he lay awake all night in pain and dozed all day from exhaustion.  
  
He trudged through to his kitchen instead of the bedroom and looked at the pot of stale coffee.  He’d brewed it that morning, nearly eight hours ago.  “I’ve had worse,” he decided and filled a mug from the dish rack, settling for warming it in the microwave over brewing a fresh pot.  He leaned against the counter as he waited for the digital numbers to blink down to zero, watching the glass plate turn with his mug in the middle and checked the time on his phone.    
  
‘One New Message’  
  
He suddenly felt more awake than he had since the accident, swiping his thumb across the screen to light it up with his main he pressed the little envelop at the bottom and watched a message from Dr. Hannibal Lecter open on screen.    
  
‘I apologize for missing your call. I was preforming surgery.’  
  
He stared at the message, read it twice and wished he knew if it was encouragement to call again or text or leave him alone.  How did someone respond to something like this?  
  
Chewing his lip he typed out a return text, erased it, typed it again and kicked a cabinet; his thumb slipping on ‘Dial’ as he cursed the pain and poor judgment of his decision.  
  
“Hello?”  A voice smooth as silk answered the phone and Will almost hung up.  
  
“Hi,” He returned awkwardly, curling his tender toes to make sure nothing was broken.  He was housebound enough without adding a limp.  
  
“Officer Graham?”  
  
“Uh, yeah, sorry, I had been trying to text you and my thumb hit call,” He wished just once in his life he could have a social conversation without feeling inept.  “How did you know it was me?  I didn’t give you my number.”  
  
An amused hum and the sound of a car door, he was either going out for lunch or leaning work for the day, “You’re the only person I’ve given my personal number whom is not presently in my contacts.”  
  
“Ah,” He tried to think of something beyond breathing into the receiver to offer in conversation and looked up when the microwave dinged, “Coffee?”  He blurted because he really was bad at this and it was the only thing he could think of to say.  
  
“Is that an invitation or an observation?”  He could hear the amusement in his voice; almost see the pull of his smile.  He’d heard the microwave and made a guess, an uncanny accurate one.  
  
“Invite,” He shifted from one foot to the other and tried to settle his nerves, “Well, a shitty attempt at one anyway.”  
  
“You’re nervous.”  Another observation, the man should have been a shrink.  
  
“You’re enjoying it.”  
  
“I am.  When would you like to meet?”  He couldn’t help his smile at the playful honesty and felt a swell of excitement replace the clouding anxiety.  
  
He hadn’t expected the man to accept, he was happy he did.  “I’m off on leave.  I can go whenever.  When’s best for you?”  
  
He hummed, considering the nervous officer, “Are you available this afternoon?”  
  
“Like I said, off, I’m available all the time.”  Though he hadn’t thought he’d want to see him today.  He’d have to have a fight with the shower and see what clean shirts he had that weren’t wrinkled beyond recognition, “You wanna meet today?”  
  
“Are you opposed?  
  
“No, not opposed, I just wasn’t expecting, I didn’t think you’d accept.”  
  
“I didn’t think you would call.  It would seem we’re both pleasantly surprised.  If you text me your address I can pick you up in an hour.”  
  
He heard the roll of an engine in the background and felt the ball of excitement in the pit of his stomach turn with it.  He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been on a date.  If that’s what this was.  He hoped it was a date…god he was screwed.  “Okay,” smiled despite the doctor’s inability to see it, “I’ll see you in an hour.”    
  
He ended the call and changed his text for a third time, typing out his home address to send off to a stranger and dropped his phone on the counter to run nervous fingers over his face.  He needed a shave.  
  
A final text lit up his phone and he bit his lip.  ‘See you soon.’  
  
“Please be a date…”  
  
OoO  
  
An hour and fifteen minutes later Will found himself seated across from the handsome doctor at a patio table of a small café.  With his arm pressed against his chest in a sling and unruly curls corkscrewing damp in every direction but the one he’d intended he felt ridiculous, especially with the man seated across from him looking so effortlessly put together.  
  
Dressed in another ostentatious three piece suit of plaid paired with paisley and a matching pocket square Will couldn’t help but be aware of the casual jeans and button down he’d chosen to wear in comparison.  He wondered if Hannibal would have preferred him in a similar style of suit, though the only one he owned he’d bought for his father’s funeral.    
  
His wonderings were brought back to the present by the smooth address of an accented voice he wanted to hear in moans, “Tell me about yourself Officer Graham.”  
  
“Will, please, we’re on a date, or dinner or whatever this is…” he silently cursed himself, “I’m not on duty.”  
  
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”  Hannibal smiled, sipping a glass of white he’d ordered to accompany his salad.  Something light for their meal between meals, too late in the day to be having lunch and too early for dinner; Will had ordered a sandwich thought he’d eaten less than half, his apatite had taken a serious hit with the lingering shoulder pain and queasiness brought on by codeine, “What would you like this to be?”  
  
He didn’t answer right away, focusing on the warmth seeping through the mug from his coffee, no alcohol for him while on meds.  He sipped the hot beverage for a longer stall without seeming too rude, this shouldn’t have been so difficult, meeting with someone and enjoying a meal, certainly no worse than work.  But the man’s attention was focused entirely on Will and he felt it like ice on his skin.  “I’d like it to be a date.” He said feeling like a guilty child.  Why the fuck couldn’t he be normal for one fucking meal?  
  
“You don’t date often do you?”  He took a sipped his wine and Will followed example, taking another drink coffee because it was a better distraction then nothing at all.  
  
He smiled, strained and bitter, “No, not a lot.” Will admitted; he tried to make eye contact and found his sight settling on bowed lips, he really wanted to kiss them.  “I find it difficult.”  
  
“Why is that?”  The question wasn’t condescending but an honest curiosity for the officers chosen loneliness.  
  
“I have an empathy disorder,” Will explained, “and something between asperger’s and autism.”  He shrugged a shoulder, “It makes it difficult to look people in the eye and most have a certain standard about only dating guys who can make eye contact.  The bonus of my lacking ability for basic social interaction usually drives people away before eye contact can become much of a problem.”    
  
“Then I suppose you’re in luck.”  That caught his attention, blue grey meeting blood red in a steady gaze, “My standards are more flexible than most.  I don’t require eye contact to enjoy the company of another.  I would not expect a blind man to meet me in the eye; if your empathy makes things difficult for you then I will extend the same curtesy.”  
  
Was it really that easy?  
  
Someone was willing to wave off his blinding awkwardness to spend time with him?  He felt like he was sitting across from a fucking unicorn, the kindness nearly non-existent in his life.  “Thank you…though I’ve never been compared to the disabled before.”  
  
“A poor comparison, I apologize.”  
  
“No, it’s fine, probably accurate.  Thanks for understanding.”  
  
“I need to be understanding if I wish to see you again.”  
  
His heart skipped a beat, “And you want to?”  
  
“Will, as estranged as you may be to dating, I assure you that I am not.  You are the most interesting person I have had the pleasure of sharing a meal with in some time.  If you find it agreeable, I would very much like to see you again.”  His smile widened, the barest reveal of crooked teeth peeking between lips, “It’s not every day a stab victim asks me to coffee in the back of an ambulance.”  
  
“You really like that.”  
  
“I find it very flattering.”  
  
“You find it interesting.”  Will corrected, “You find me interesting, that’s why you were waiting in my room for me to wake up.  You had to know why I said it, what I was trying to say.”  
  
He shifted, tilting his head as he considered the information presented before him, “You read people that easily?”  
  
“It’s a curse of the whole empathy thing.”  He shrugged again and regretted the movement; it was amazing how one muscle on the other side of your body could affect another.  He was due for another pill.  “It’s not like I read minds or anything, just people.  I see how you watch and move and hear the flux of tone in voice or shift of character and I understand it…it’s almost like slipping into someone else’s skin for a while.”  
  
“And that scares you.”  
  
He let his eyes drop to his coffee, half eaten sandwich forgotten.  “It’s like losing your sense of self…sometimes I find myself mimicking those around me, I don’t even do it on purpose, it just happens.  I slip into someone else’s mannerisms, their dialect…it takes more effort not to.”  
  
“I’m not bothered by your empathy and I am a very patient man.  If you find yourself becoming overwhelmed by my company or the atmosphere created by those around us,” he waved his hand in a simple gesture of the café and its patrons, “I will provide you with the space you require.  Be it my own distance or a more intimate setting.”  
  
That made Will blush, “You’re very accommodating to a guy you’ve only just met.”  
  
“Perhaps, but there is an intimacy gained through surgery; I have seen you in your most vulnerable state, opened your flesh and looked inside you.”  
  
It certainly sounded intimate.  “I thought surgeons detached themselves from their work.”  
  
“Yes, generally we do, and I saw to your wounds with complete professionalism.”  He assured, “But I don’t generally mace attackers for my patients.”  He smiled and Will found his free hand being taken by the doctors, his thumb sliding in a gentle cress over his knuckles, “You spoke to me through your pain and created a connection.  You desired my attention.”  
  
Will bit his lip, a habit he’d have to make a point to break, “I made it intimate for you.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
He wondered if it made him selfish for liking that.  “Should I apologize?”  He took his hand back, fishing a bottle of prescription pills from his pocket and worked the cap off with his teeth.  Less than elegant, but he was in pain, only had one working arm and really didn’t care.  It probably counted toward why he didn’t date much.    
  
“Are you uncomfortable?”  
  
“I was stabbed, I think it goes without saying that I’m uncomfortable.”  He dry swallowed a pill and chased it with cooling coffee.  “Sorry, I really am shit at this.  It’s been a while since my last dose and I’m starting to feel it.”  
  
Hannibal nodded, “I don’t suppose the travel was good for you either.  You should be resting.”  He caught the eye of their waiter and signaled for the check; Will felt guilty for it.  
  
“I’m fine, really.  We don’t have to end this now.”  
  
The bill was brought and he met Will with a look of question, “You wish to continue?”  
  
“I don’t want to end our first date on a bad note.”  He reached for the check and was beaten to it, a tanned hand catching the thin black book containing their bills before he could.  His brow furrowed.  “I asked you out Hannibal, let me pay.”  
  
Thin lips pulled in a devious smile, maroon eyes taking Will with measure, “Perhaps next time.”  He slipped his card into the book and handed it back to their waiter.  “You are still too early in healing to be pushing yourself William, but, if you are determined that our time does not end here, you are welcomed to join me in my home.  It will satisfy my desire for you to rest while allowing for things to continue.  I can keep an eye on your pain, relieve it if necessary.”  
  
“If you’re not interested, then don’t.”  He shook his head, turning away as he rose to leave.  “I won’t force my company on anyone.”  
  
“I enjoy your company; I wouldn’t offer my home if I didn’t.”  He signed the check and returned his card to his wallet before following the insecure officer out of the café, his hand finding perch at the small of Will’s back to guide toward the Bentley.  “If your time is still available to me, I would like to keep you a while longer.  But only if you are not in pain.”  
  
“I’m fine.”  He reassured, “I’d like to continue.”  
  
A nod and he opened the door, holding it as Will eased into the car and buckled his seat belt with grimes, “Thank you.”  
  
“You’re most welcome; it is my pleasure to have you.”  
  
OoOoO  
  
TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are playing with Will's corkscrew curls, your comments are sexting slutty messages using Will and Hanni's phones. 
> 
> Hannibal is trying to think of the easiest way to fuck Will into the mattress without hurting his shoulder~<3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are chasing each other with cans of mace in a chemical war, your comments are call calling doctors and pinching their bums. 
> 
> WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE IN THIS FIC???
> 
> Dirty talk?  
> Sugar daddy?  
> BDSM?  
> Fuffy sugary romance?  
> Angst?  
> Slutty somebody?
> 
> This fic is a plotless wonder meant for exploration and experimentation. Where do you want it to go? So far I'm leaning toward tasteful dirty-talking Hannibal with a side of sugar daddy.


End file.
